The Little Things
by Frohike
Summary: First person narrative. You're just going to have to take a chance on this one. It's short, trust me.


The Little Things  
Author: Frohike  
Email: frohike51@aol.com  
Category: First person narrative  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: None  
Distribution: Drop me a line and ask first. I haven't said no to anyone yet.  
Disclaimers: No names are mentioned, but you can fill in the blanks pretty easily. The narrator is mine. Author's notes at the end. You'll probably need them. :-)  
Feedback: Yes, please.  
Dedication: In loving memory of Harry Chapin, whose song, Vacancy, inspired this piece. 

Ya know, you see a lotta things in this business. In the thirty years I've run this joint, I've seen more drug busts and hooker raids than you shake a stick at. Had my share of drunk and disorderlies, a coupla room fires, two suicides and then there was that murder back in '87. Damn, that was a mess, but shit happens. You deal with it and get back to business. Big stuff like that you don't ever forget, but you don't let it stick in your head; you'd go crazy if you did. Nope, at the end of the day, it's the little things that stick with you.

See, bein' a motel man is kinda like bein' a shrink. You wander in out of the rooms day in and day out, you learn somethin' about human nature. Like this room, for example. Over there you got your rumpled sheets. First glance, you're thinkin', so what, sheets are supposed to be rumbled after you sleep on 'em and you'd be right. Now, take a closer look. Those sheets ain't just rumpled, they've been pulled clean out from under the mattress. Look at the cover sheet; see how the bottom's all wadded up with the top? No stains on those sheets, so he wasn't doin' the horizontal bop with some chickadee neither. Nossir, this man's got a world o' worry in him so deep that he can't even sleep without wrestlin' with his problems. 

Don't look at me like that. Just 'cause you're wearin' a suit and those expensive shoes, don't mean you know everything. Take a look in here. More rumpled sheets, yeah, but not the worried kind. These're your basic sleep variety rumples. Whatcha gotta look for now is the other stuff. Room smells like shit, don't it? Smells of sweat and gin, and it ain't the good stuff neither. Empty bottle in the can, but only one glass by the bed. Care to make a guess about this one, mister? No? OK then, I'll tell you what I see. She's afraid of something, this one is. That bottle, she bought it last night, you can see the receipt right there. She got in here and slugged back the entire thing all by her lonesome. Huh? Whaddya mean, how do I know it was a woman. You blind, man? Light pink lipstick on the glass. Sheesh, anyone coulda seen that.

Yeah, yeah, all right, come on. They were down at the other end, number 17. Come in around eight last night, draggin' like they'd been through the wringer. Asked for separate rooms, too, but we were booked. What? We're off the interstate, do a good business with the truckers during the week. We don't flip on the 'no vacancy' sign too often, but last night, we got lucky. This was the only room left. I don't usually remember faces, you understand, but like I said, it's the little things that stick with you and that little redhead sure did stand out in my mind. No bigger than a minute, but she had that guy of hers whipped but good. He was all set to head off down the road and find another place, but she stared his ass down. I had a real hard time not laughing out loud. He musta known, 'cause he just shrugged and handed me the cash for the room. 

Here we are. Hang on, I gotta get the key out for this one. Ada hasn't been down to open these rooms for cleanin' yet. Alrighty, let's see what we got in here. Uh oh, they musta been fightin'. Chairs pushed together, pillow and blanket all bunched up on the cushion; oh yeah, he didn't get any last night. You lookin' for anything in p'ticular? No, just askin'. Hey, that's weird. Over there on the dresser, three glasses. Hmm, smells like Jack in all three of 'em. That one's hers. Yeah, lip marks, 'though hers looks more like chapstick than lipstick. But these other two belonged to him. Or hims. Maybe they had company, but from the look of 'em, I wouldn't think they were up to entertainin' anybody. Can't see why he'd use two glasses though, so they musta had someone stop by.

Find anything interestin' in the bathroom? Damn, that's a lot of towels for two people to use in less than twelve hours. Oh geez, they stink to high heaven. Whoever they had vistin' must notta bathed in weeks! Holy cow! I think I'll have Ada just burn these puppies, unless you need them for evidence or somethin'. Justa guess, but you kinda have that Fed look about you. 

Well now, there's somethin' I don't see every day. Most of the time, these ashtrays are full of butts. Don't generally see 'em full of sunflower seed husks. They musta passed some serious hours in here. Usually you can mark time by cigarette butts, but this guy has a bad seed habit. Healthier than the smokes, that's for sure. 

Hey, these people you're lookin' for; they do somethin' really bad? I mean, is this like a crime scene or somethin'? Yeah, sure, I understand. Hush, hush, government business.

Sure, I can describe them again. Can I ask you not to light up in here, mister? No, this is a smokin' room, but I got asthma real bad. We can go outside, if you need a fix. Air's movin' pretty good out there, so I can stand upwind, if you want. No problem, when you gotta have one, you gotta have one. I'll leave the door open so you can go back in when we're done. 

Now, lemme see. Well, she's real easy to remember. Tiny thing, about this high, red hair like a flame on a match, with a temper to boot, if last night was any indication. Him? Well, that one's a little tougher. Like I said, I don't usually remember the faces. He was taller than her by a whole head; probably six feet or so, dark hair. Oh yeah, he was wearin' gloves, black leather gloves. It's the middle of freakin' July, I remember thinkin', why in the hell was this guy wearin' gloves? I asked him if his hands didn't sweat in those things, but she kinda dragged him away before he had a chance to answer. One of them little things, ya know? Can't tell you much more than that, other than they left this mornin', just about eight. I remember 'cause I was just settlin' in with my coffee and bran muffin when they came in to drop off the key.

Ah, sure, take all the time you want. I'll be in back in the office if you need me. Just close the door on your way out. 

Hey mister! I just thought of somethin'. Don't know if it means much, but that guy, when he came in this mornin', he wasn't wearin' those gloves. Yeah, same guy, I guess. Tall, dark hair, same fireball redhead by his side. Like I said though, I don't pay much attention to faces; it's the little things that stick with me. 

Author's notes:  
While this makes perfect sense to me, in my twisted little mind, I have no doubt that some (most?) will find it confusing. It might help to know that in my version of things, Alex Krycek did not die in that parking garage; it was all a cleverly conceived plot to help him get away until such time as Mulder and Scully need his assistance. I will always believe that Alex was working for the ultimate good, he just had a different way of going about it. This takes place after Mulder's departure. William is at home with Maggie. Does this help?  
Fro 


End file.
